Yesterday when I came home, a box was sitting on my doorstep. And as with most people, I get ecstatic when I get gifts, as I don’t get many. I won’t get into my sob story about my parents, but let’s just say—nah...I’ll leave it to your imagination, as we’ve all got bad stories. Anyway, when I get a gift or letter, it’s a well-welcoming shock.
This box was from my best friend’s mother, a woman who I’d wished was my mother growing up. We’ve been best friends since the third grade, so this woman has known me most of my life.
If you’ve read my bio at the end of my first novel, She Belongs to Me, or my blog post Why Do You Write, you’ll recognize this story and see why this is such a special gift to me. The stories she is speaking of in this letter were a means of an escape for me as a child.
Other than a jewelry box my mother gave me when I was eight, this is the only other item from my childhood. And what a special gift it is… As she wrote on the box, “Where it all began…”
And here's what was in the box.
How cool is that?
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Until next time, happy reading!